


leave room for space jesus

by bizarrebird



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Background Grimmons, Dancing Lessons, M/M, RvB Fluff Week, Sort of AU, not in any big way, set some time after season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizarrebird/pseuds/bizarrebird
Summary: Agent Washington has faced the worst kind of enemies, but there's nothing that could make him ready for his next challenge: dancing without looking like an idiot.





	leave room for space jesus

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from orangeycookiekay - helloooooo how about a tuckington fluff prompt-- slow dancing (or very noble attempts)??
> 
> I really like this prompt and I really hope I did it justice!

“Wash, c’mon, it’s not that hard.”

His eyes are still doubtful, but he takes Tucker’s hand anyway and lets him pull him to his feet again. “I still don’t see what the point of this is. I doubt Grif and Simmons are going to want to dance much.”

“So? Other people will.”

“What do you mean, so? It’s their wedding, Tucker.”

Tucker snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but if it was up to them, they’d just hop a ship to the Vegas quadrant to get married and never tell anyone. The reception is for Donut, and he wants people dancing, so c’mon.”

Wash still thinks it’s pointless, and that it’s weird for someone’s wedding reception to not actually be for them, but he lets Tucker drag him to the middle of their room. They’ve shoved all the furniture aside for these little ‘dance lessons’. Which Wash is still pretty sure he doesn’t need, although Tucker hadn’t backed down once he’d made his off hand comment about never dancing much.

That had been his first mistake. 

So now they’re in their shared room, Tucker’s ‘slow lovin’ jams’ playlist on in the background. The fact that Wash knows it’s called that is such a problem itself, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s known he’s in too deep for a while now. Ever since the end of the war when he and Tucker ended up tipsy and touchy in a closet, they’ve been in weird sort of relationship limbo. 

He’s not sure quite what they are and he’s pretty sure Tucker doesn’t either, but they’re both waaaay too emotionally stunted to ask. Or Wash is anyway. Tucker usually seems a little less emotionally constipated, but that might not be saying a whole lot. Sensitivity training was one of that things that every level of Freelancer seemed to miss out on. 

But he knows Tucker’s dealing with enough right now and the last thing he needs is to try to deal with Wash’s issues on top of his own. So whatever they are now, Wash is good with it. Mostly. 

That still doesn’t mean that spending time alone with just the two of them in close proximity with lots of touching is a good idea. Because there’s touching. Lots. Definitely more than necessary as Tucker pulls him close and nudges him into the position, one hand holding Wash’s, the other at his hip.

Tucker grins and looks a little too pleased with himself. “Alright, now just watch my feet and follow my lead. Once you’ve kinda got it, we can switch off and I’ll be the girl.”

“Right.” He bites back a comment about how he’s pretty sure Tucker’s hand doesn’t need to be quite as low as it is, but he’s pretty sure drawing attention to it isn’t going to help. Tucker waits for a moment, head nodding with the music for a beat or two before he starts moving in time with it. 

Wash’s eyes are on his face and not his feet and he’s not expecting it and Tucker just walks into him. His face scrunches up, one eyebrow rising. “Dude? C’mon, we haven’t even started.”

“Sorry, I was distracted. Let’s try again.” He gives himself a little shake, forcing his eyes to Tucker’s feet as he feels his face heat up. There’s a soft chuckle that he knows is at his expense, but he’s just going to ignore it. 

This time, he sees Tucker’s feet moving and follows him. It’s a little awkward, but they haven’t stepped on each other yet. After a few moments though, Tucker tugs him to a stop. “Okay, yeah, this shit isn’t working.”

Wash blinks at him, finally looking up. “What? I thought I was doing alright. Was I going too slow?”

“No, it’s--you’re way too tense for this, dude. You need to loosen up a little. Here, let me go a sec.” Tucker pulls away, flexing the hand that had been holding Wash’s hand, and it suddenly occurs to him that his grip might have been a little tight. Shit. 

As his hands fall back to his sides, he realizes just how clammy they both are. Damn it. This shouldn’t be so difficult. Wash knows his footwork is good in a fight. Hell, he’s been the one giving Tucker tips about that. Dancing shouldn’t be any harder than that. Then again, in a knife fight, he’s usually not overly concerned with stepping on his partner’s feet. 

Still, it stands to reason that some of the same techniques should apply. Maybe if he had a knife…

The music changes and pulls Wash out of his thoughts. This one’s familiar too, a little softer and gentler than the one before. He blinks at Tucker, one eyebrow rising as he draws closer. “I’m not sure going even slower will make things better.”

Tucker shakes his head. “You’re too busy thinking about shit. When you’re not leading you’re supposed to just like… let the other person kinda pull you around a little more, trust your partner, y’know?”

Wash blanches, guilt gnawing at him. “I do trust you.”

That makes a strangely soft smile spread over Tucker’s face as he steps closer and reaches for Wash’s hands, pulling at him. “I know, Wash. Now c’mere.”

He moves with the tug and lets Tucker guide his hands to his shoulders before Tucker’s hands go to his waist. The position reminds him of the awkward middle school slow dances he’s tried very hard to block out (there’s a few memories he would be okay with not getting back after the Epsilon incident). 

“Alright, now what?” Wash asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Now you fucking relax and just sway a little.” Tucker huffs when he keeps staring. Reaching up, his hand moves to the back of Wash’s neck, carefully curling around the old scars there. It’s the kind of touch that would make Wash body slam anyone else into the floor. Even now, it still makes him go still, but Tucker’s hand is gentle as he slowly guides Wash’s head forward to rest on his shoulder. 

“Just like this. Actually, put your hands on my waist instead.” Wash does and a little sigh goes out of him as Tucker’s other arm loops around him, palm pressing flat just between his shoulder blades. “There, okay, now just let me do all the work.”

Wash snorts. “That would be a first.”

“Hey, fuck you, dude, I do plenty of work.” But there’s a laugh in Tucker’s voice as he starts them swaying, walking Wash backwards in a slow little circle. The music keeps going, another song coming on, just as slow, and with… pretty sappy lyrics if he’s hearing them right. 

But it isn’t too bad, really. 

Wash is fairly sure that actual dancing requires a little more focus and grace than this, but it’s… kind of nice just leaning against Tucker, letting him steer them around. They’re close enough that he can feel Tucker’s chest brush against his. His hands slowly creep around to the small of Tucker’s back. They move in smaller and smaller circles until they’re just turning and swaying on the spot. 

Eyes falling shut, he lets out a breath as Tucker’s fingers move gently over the back of his neck. This definitely isn’t the kind of dancing they’re supposed to be doing at the wedding, but he can’t bring himself to say something to make it stop. Tucker’s warm and he can feel the firm lines of his muscles through the slightly too tight shirt he’s wearing. 

There’s a million different things he shouldn’t be noticing. Like how Tucker smells like that nice fruity shampoo Donut found, or how his hair tickles a little where it brushes Wash’s cheek, or how he’s faintly humming along to the song and drumming his fingers gently to the beat against Wash’s back. 

A knock at the door makes Wash realize two things. First, that they left the door to the room open in the first place, meaning dozens of people could have seen them. And second, that they’ve basically stopped moving at this point without him noticing. 

He looks over as he freezes in Tucker’s arms. Sarge and Donut are both there, because of course they are. Donut’s got his hands pressed to his mouth like he’s about to start cooing at them. There’s a very loud throat clearing from Sarge. “Well someone ain’t leaving much room for space Jesus.”

It sounds like a joke, but it makes Wash abruptly spring back from Tucker, nearly stumbling over himself. Glancing back, he finds Tucker making a face at the intrusion, not at him, strangely enough. His face burns as he turns back toward Sarge and Donut, who’s definitely laughing behind his hands now. 

Wash takes a breath, trying to collect himself. “Did you two need something?”

“I just wanted to stop by to see how the dance lesson was going.” Donut’s innocent smile doesn’t fool Wash for a second. Someone is getting a talking to at their next wine and cheese hour. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Wash cocks an eyebrow at the pair of them. “It’s going just fine. I’m… getting there.” 

“I’d offer to help show you a two step, but I ain’t sure if that’d work if your fixing to feel up--” Sarge cuts himself off with a loud fake cough as Donut drives an elbow into his side. “I mean, good work, soldiers, keep at it. But remember, space Jesus.”

“We’ll just leave you to it. C’mon Sarge, we’ve got things to do, you’re in charge of confetti.” Wash feels a tiny surge of gratitude as Donut grabs the old soldier by the arm and drags him off down the hallway. 

There’s a muttered curse from Tucker as he stomps over and shuts the door with probably a little more force than necessary. He turns and presses his back to it, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets out a huff. “Someday they’re gonna learn to mind their own fucking business.”

Frowning, Wash tips his head a little to one side, eyes flicking to the door. “We did leave it open, they could have just been passing by.”

Tucker scoffs and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? Dude, they were checking up on us. Everyone’s been doing it all fucking week, it’s pissing me off.” 

He pushes himself off the door and walks across the room to flop down face first on his bed. Wash hesitates for a moment before approaching, tentatively sitting next to him as he reaches out to lightly grab Tucker’s shoulder. “I don’t think they mean anything by it… or nothing bad anyway.”

Because that’s the only part he’s sure of here. Wash isn’t quite going soft just yet, and he’s noticed more than a few lingering stares from the other Reds and Blues whenever he and Tucker sit together in the mess hall, or head off for a workout. It hasn’t really been something he’s thought about much, everyone likes gossip now and then. (He would be lying if he said he hadn’t had a few too many talks with Donut about when Grif and Simmons would finally tie the knot.)

But maybe that’s been a mistake on his part. Tucker hasn’t knocked his hand away yet, so he gently rubs his back. “I can… try to talk to them if you want, and explain that there’s… nothing going on that they need to be concerned about.”

Tucker pushes himself up and fixes Wash with a strangely intense look, a few of his dreads falling into his face. “So there’s nothing going on here?”

That is definitely a trick question. So Wash just stares at him for a moment, a deer watching an eighteen-wheeler barreling down on him. He’s tempted to say no, but… he’s not sure that’s true, and he’s even less sure that yes is the right answer. “Uh.” 

Glancing away, he rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure,” he says slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. “But… whatever’s going on, it’s nothing that the rest of them need to worry about. It’s between us.” 

He risks a look down at Tucker. There’s not a smile there, but his frown is a bit less intense now. His teeth are doing a number on his lower lip and there’s this little wrinkle between his eyebrows that Wash wants to kiss away. And that’s a thought that sort of throws him for a loop for a minute. 

He’s in way too deep. 

And yet, he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to gently brush Tucker’s hair back from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. His knuckles lightly skim over Tucker’s cheek and there’s a sharp inhale. 

The music changes, another slow song. Tucker must have put on another playlist. This one’s very familiar, though he’s not quite sure why. It’s nice though, his foot tapping along to it. “I like this song,” he says, almost absently.

Rising from the bed, he offers his hand to Tucker and manages a half smile. “Let’s try again. I think I almost got those steps you were showing me before.”

Tucker eyes his hand before he takes it and Wash pulls him to his feet. He doesn’t let go as he tugs Tucker toward the center of the room again. This time, he puts his hand on Tucker’s waist, which gets him a raised eyebrow. Smile growing, Wash shrugs. “I think I’ll try leading this time.”

“I like it when you take charge,” Tucker says, with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Wash snorts. “No you don’t.”

“Okay, yeah, most of the time. Dude, just let me hit on you in peace.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing? I wasn’t sure.” Wash smirks as he repeats the steps from earlier, steering Tucker along as he tries to keep time with the song. 

“Don’t be a dick.” But Tucker’s smiling as he shakes his head, letting Wash lead him along. 

It seems so easy for him, to just go where Wash moves him, his eyes never straying to their feet. Tucker moves naturally, even when the song changes and Wash almost trips over his own feet trying to adjust to the slightly different tempo. His hand moves from Wash’s shoulder to the back of his neck again, fingertips lightly running over his hairline. 

Wash steps on Tucker’s feet twice and nearly steers him into a wall once, but there’s no major disasters by the time the songs start repeating, so he’s going to call that a win for now. 

“I think you’re getting it, Wash,” Tucker says, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. Pulling away, he plops down on his bed again, rubbing at one of his feet. “Think I’m done for the day though. If I sway anymore, I’m gonna get sea sick all over your shoes.”

“Please don’t.” Wash laughs a little as he moves to turn off the music. “I might need a few more lessons though. I’d rather not step on anyone at the reception.”

“Eh, I don’t really give a shit if you step on me a few times,” Tucker says, shrugging. “Better you than Caboose. I tried teaching him ages ago and he almost broke three of my toes.”

“Fair enough, but if I end up dancing with anyone else, they might not feel the same.”

Tucker scoffs and Wash looks over as he flops back on the bed. “We both know I’ve called dibs for the whole reception, dude. Just accept it.”

That catches Wash a little by surprise, but… maybe it shouldn’t. He glances back at the stereo and flicks through Tucker’s music, pulling up the ‘slow lovin’ jams’ playlist. Tucker’s looking at him, confusion on his face when Wash turns around and moves to sit next to him. 

“You have decent taste in music,” is all Wash says as he flops back against the bed and drapes an arm over his eyes. 

“Decent?” There’s a little snort next to him and then he feels Tucker’s weight settle against his side. “Fine, you pick the music for next time.”

“Maybe I will.” And suddenly, he’s really, really looking forward to that next lesson. 


End file.
